The First Christmas
by Melchy
Summary: With the first Christmas Season upon the Muir family in Gull Cottage, Carolyn must deal with the pain she always finds comes with it.


I almost gave up on it, several times but thanks to Mary and Susan and Denise and Chantal, (I needed lots of persuading) I didn't. Special thanks goes to Mary who kept asking me if I had worked on it any that day and kept listening to all my ideas. And a great thanks to her and Chantal with the editing and as always to Susan and Denise for their encouragment. 

I know this might not be what you think of when you think of Christmas stories but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Dedicated to Hope Lange because without her the character of Carolyn wouldn't have been the same. 

The First Christmas. 

It was an honest question for the boy to ask, but Carolyn wasn't sure quite how to answer it. It wasn't that it was a particularly complicated question, or shocking in any way, but she wasn't sure the best way to handle her six-year old's inquiry. 

"Mom, is Santa Claus afraid of Captain Gregg do you think?" His blue eyes were wide. "Because if he is, he might not leave us any presents." 

"Mommy!" Candy's face took on a concerned look. "Make him stop. I get so tired of hearing him talk about that ghost," she said in a voice that reminded Carolyn of the girl's father. "Everyone knows that there are no such things as ghosts or S. . . . " 

"Candy, would you please begin to clear the table?" Carolyn interrupted her. Perhaps it was silly, but she was proud that her youngest still believed in the character of Santa and didn't want anything to disturb that until he figured it out for himself. And as for Captain Gregg! 

"I can't imagine Santa Claus being afraid of a ghost." Martha gave her two cents. "Why I understand, the man is fearless." The housekeeper got up from her place and began to dish out dessert, since Candy was clearing the table. 

"I think Martha is right," Carolyn nodded, happy for the backup. "I wouldn't worry about old Saint Nick passing us by. He'll be here." 

Jonathan ate his peach cobbler – seemingly satisfied with his mother's answer, but that night as she was tucking him in bed, once more he brought the subject up. 

"Oh sweetie, I wouldn't worry about it really." She sat down on the edge of his bed, drawing the covers up under his chin. "Santa Claus has been delivering presents to boys and girls in lots of different places, and I don't think he is going to stop now. Of course he might not show up if you forget to mail your letter. Which I don't think you've done yet have you?" she leaned down and gave him a kiss. 

"No, I haven't," he admitted. "I'll do it tomorrow and then you'll check it over for me?" 

"Don't I always?" She ran her hand through his hair. "Pleasant dreams little man." 

"You too, Mom." 

She kissed her daughter goodnight, telling her not to become too exasperated with Jonathan as she wasn't six all that long ago herself, leaving them to sleep the sleep of a child. 

Hopefully, that would be the last time Jonathan would ask that question and she could forget about the fact that Christmas was indeed closer than the liked to think about. She would have been happy if they could skip it all together, she harbored the traitorous thought. 

Carolyn technically didn't hate Christmas. There was nothing sweeter than the look of joy in her children's eyes as they looked at lighted displays, talked to Santa or played their part in the nativity play. 

She herself was always overcome with the dazzling lights, the smell of evergreens and the shiny appeal of packages wrapped in smooth paper and curly ribbon. The sound of Christmas carols always gave her a thrill and her idea of a well-spent winter afternoon was listening to the sweet strains of the Messiah. 

But every year when the radios began to play Jingle Bells and the stores were hung with tinsel and bells, she felt that ache in the bottom of her stomach. It physically hurt, but there wasn't anything that a doctor could do about it. It had been that way since 1965. The year that her husband had died. 

They had not been married at Christmas, or met at Christmas, nor had he died at Christmas. Their first Christmas together, he had spent most of the day with his parents, who had made him feel guilty for wanting to be with her and her parents. Their second Christmas, he had been in San Diego on business and their third, Candy had been a little over a month old and sick with the croup. Their remaining three Christmases had been wonderful, the things dreams were made of, but that still never explained to her why she felt this way. She missed him all the time, didn't she? Not just at Christmas. 

But this year, she told herself, it would be better. This year she would get past the holiday without the physical pain lodged in her stomach, the inability to eat, without the desire to crawl up into a ball and not come out until after New Year's. Wouldn't she? Not that she ever gave in to these cravings, but that didn't make them any less real. "This year you will be fine Carolyn," she told herself severely. "It's been three years, and it's time for you to shake this. You've done well so far." 

"Talking to yourself again my dear?" Captain Gregg inquired good-humoredly. "I've heard the danger is when you actually begin to answer yourself, so I guess we are safe for a while longer." He looked at her, a twinkle forming in his eye. 

She was beginning to get used to his ways, she thought, knowing that underneath his masculine exterior he was a giant marshmallow. At first he had appeared as gruff and uncaring, but she had soon learned that he was anything but. She actually looked forward to spending time with him every day, upset if she did not see him for long periods of time. She loved listening to his stories, whether of his life aboard ship, or his more racy tales of life in some exotic port. 

"I was just realizing how close the holidays are to actually being here. It's less than a month, and I still don't have any idea of what to get for people, or where to begin, or even where the money is coming from. And to tell you the truth, I don't enjoy shopping like I used to." 

The knife was beginning to twist a little. Shopping! How she and Bobby had loved to go shopping. When they had first met and were falling in love, shopping was one of the ways they contrived to be alone. They had spent many happy hours, walking through the stores, hand in hand, teasing one another about what they would have in their house, learning each other's likes and dislikes by looking at furniture, clothes, dishes and knickknacks. They never actually bought much, she remembered, they had just enjoyed being together. 

"I don't believe I've heard of a woman who didn't adore spending money," he said, in a mocking tone. 

"It would help if I actually had some money to spend." She tried to sound light, but it didn't come that way. "Would you please excuse me, Captain? I'm really quite busy." 

"Of course my dear." He gave a slight nod before disappearing from the master bedroom. 

Letting out a huge sigh, she sat down in front of the typewriter, determined to get some work done, but knew she wasn't fooling anyone, especially herself. 

Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't hear the knock on the door. "Come in," she called out, surprised to see her daughter come into the room. 

"I can't sleep Mommy," Candy declared, even as she rubbed her eyes in an attempt to stay awake. Every time I shut my eyes, they pop open again." 

"I know that feeling," Carolyn assured her. "The same thing happens to me sometimes." 

"Really?" Her blue eyes were wide. "That makes me feel better. Can I ask you something?" 

"Of course." Carolyn got up and headed for the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. "Come into my office." She patted the leather covering. The little girl snuggled up against her, resting her blonde head on her mother's shoulder. 

"Mommy," she finally started, lapsing into the term that she had declared not long ago she was too old to use. "I've been thinking about Christmas. It's not going to be the same is it?" 

"No darling, it won't be. It will be completely different from what it has ever been. But that doesn't mean it won't be fun." 

Even with the upheaval of their father's death, and the big changes in their lives the last three years, Christmas had still been pretty much the same. But she was right, this year would be different. They were living far from their family and friends and sharing space with a ghost. What did he think about Christmas? Carolyn couldn't help but wonder before turning her attention back to her daughter. 

"I know we won't be able to see the window displays at Wanamaker's or Lord and Taylor's or see the tree in Liberty Square or go caroling with Grandma and Grandpap in Old Towne. But we will have a tree of our own and Martha has promised to cook a feast of goodies before she leaves for Florida and I heard there is a parade downtown on Main Street Saturday. That should be fun." 

"And we won't have to go to Granddad's boring office party . . ." Candy joined in the spirit of the game. ". . With all the men smoking cigars and telling Jonathan how they will be working for him someday." 

"And we won't have to drink Ellen's eggnog!" Carolyn laughed. Ellen Conway was the Muir's housekeeper, a dear old soul who made the worst eggnog in history, but everyone was afraid to tell her. 

"Even without all of those things, it will still be Christmas," Carolyn assured her. "And you and me and Jonathan will be together. And that's what's important." 

"I know," Candy yawned. "I guess it's just nice to hear someone say it." 

"It is," Carolyn felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you want me to tuck you back in?" 

"No, thank-you Mommy. I can do it," the girl assured her as she got up. Right before leaving, she threw her arms around her mother, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and then ran from the room, closing the door with an unintended 'bang.' 

"What is this noise on my ship?" Captain Gregg stood at the door, looking at it anxiously as though Candy might have cracked it. 

"It's been standing there for a hundred years," Carolyn said without looking up. "I don't think one little slam will do it in." 

"One-hundred and fifteen years to be exact," the seaman informed her. "I put this door on Sept. 21, 1855 . . . " 

He kept talking, but Carolyn wasn't listening. As much as she knew Candy had needed to have her talk to put the coming holiday in proper perspective, it had sent a tidal wave of homesickness through Carolyn like she had never experienced. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be at home – in Philadelphia – but not her girlhood home, HER home. 

She wanted to be in the living room of 1150 Penn Circle, standing beside the Christmas tree that she and Bobby had cut down, dragged home and decorated by the light of the fire. The one that they had placed each child's gifts under, including the bicycle for Candy and the tricycle for Jonathan and then when they were satisfied with their work had made glorious, erotic love in the twinkle of the holiday lights. The one that had stood on their lovingly refurbished wooden floors, where the light from the windows caught on each glass bulb. She could remember that tree and that room as though it were yesterday. She could almost feel the ache of wanton desire in her limbs as Bobby had praised her body with words of love and want. 

"Madam, are you hearing me?" 

"I'm not really in the mood for one of your stories right now, Captain," she answered curtly, recognizing the ache as nothing more than the pain of loss. "I really just want to be left alone." 

"As you wish." He gave a curt nod and then left the room in a flourish. Carolyn watched the place he vacated for several minutes, torn between wanting to call him back and wanting him far away. 

"It's not like he would understand," she finally told herself, sitting back down in the chair to watch the gas flames in the stove. Indulging in some self-pity, she grew tired and soon fell asleep in the chair, her hair askew and her nightgown hanging off of one shoulder, her neck in a position that would hurt come morning. But she slept soundly. 

************* 

He wanted to pick her up and lay her on the bed, but knew that wasn't possible right now. She had to believe that he couldn't touch her. That was something she wasn't ready for at this present time. Not to mention she seemed to be going through some kind of battle right now. If only he could help her, let her know that she wasn't alone. 

There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. He would even leave if she asked him to, although thank God, she had not. He hadn't meant to become attached to this family but he couldn't help it. It was like a present from heaven to have Carolyn Muir and her children in his home, bringing their love and warmth and humanness into his dreary existence. 

He was actually looking forward to the Christmas season this year. The last time Gull Cottage had been decorated in the way of the holiday had been much longer ago then he cared to remember. Already he had heard the housekeeper talking about making gingerbread and apple pop overs and mincemeat pies and it made his mouth water at the thought. He was quite adept at pinching a cookie or two from the well-stocked larder, and knew it would be no different with the Christmas goodies. If the woman wasn't so sure that he wasn't there, he would very much like to meet her face to face. But she was such a recalcitrant woman – calling him an old goat! Maybe someday, but this wasn't the time. 

He had a gift in mind for the lad and even had thought of something to leave for the girl, even though she didn't believe he was there. She was a pretty thing with her mother's smile and her own mind about things and he couldn't help but like her. Yes, he had something just right for the lass, as weren't all little girls women just waiting to happen?

But Mrs. Muir? That would be much harder. The fact that he loved her made it even more difficult because it should be something that showed her he regarded her as special, but yet not reveal his true feelings. Not yet. He wasn't sure, but it seemed as though Christmas had scared up a few ghosts for Carolyn Muir. 

********************* 

Carolyn found Jonathan in the front room, studying the fireplace in earnestness. Looking the contraption over with his father's sky-blue eyes. He seemed to be working something out, she thought, as he nodded his head in one instance, but then shook it again. 

"Jonathan?" She had to ask, hoping she wasn't intruding. Even little boys needed moments to be alone. "Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"No, thank-you Mom." He kept his eyes on the flickering flames. "I was just trying to make sure that Santa could get back up the chimney in a hurry if he had to. I think you and Martha are right – he will come, but if he should get spooked than he would need to get out fast." 

"Sweetie, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his freckled face to her direction. 

"Captain Gregg had never scared you in any way, has he? I always thought the two of you got on well together." 

"Oh we do Mom. Captain Gregg is the greatest!" 

"Then why are you so worried about Santa not wanting to come here because of the Captain? What makes you think that the Captain would try to harm Santa Claus?" 

"I don't think he would try to harm him or scare him on purpose. It's just that Santa is an old man and sort of overweight, and I'm worried about his health. And I'm not sure how used he is to ghosts." 

Carolyn bit her bottom lip, trying very hard not to laugh. "Oh, I see," she managed to nod. "You think the old guy might not be able to take seeing a ghost?" 

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't want him to croak, or anything. I mean we've never had a ghost before." 

"Oh Jonathan!" She reached out for her boy who went into his mother's arms, accepting her hug. 

"Everything will be all right," she assured him. "Santa Claus will come here to Gull Cottage, just like he came to our house, and to the Muir's house after that. He always knows where you are Jonathan. Don't worry." 

"I won't," he said, looking up at her earnestly. "You're right. He has never let me down before." 

"What are you talking about?" Candy came into the room, her arms full of books. 

"Santa Claus and Captain Gregg." Jonathan flashed her a triumphant look. 

"Again?" The girl rolled her eyes. "Mother, I worry about him." 

"It takes all kinds to make a world." She looked fondly at the girl. "What are all the books for?" 

"My part in the Christmas program at school is to tell about Christmas in other countries. I have to find out their traditions and stuff. Thought I better get at it, before you said 'Candy, why didn't you tell me about this sooner?'." 

Carolyn wasn't listening. Martha was baking in the kitchen and had been listening to the radio. Carolyn had heard it of course, but hadn't really noticed the individual songs. Suddenly her attention was drawn to the strains of Bing Crosby singing _White Christmas, _and the words of the familiar song were ringing in her ears. "_Where the tree tops glisten,_ _and children listen, to hear sleigh bells in the snow . . "_ She felt the blood rush to her face, and she had to get out of there. 

"Mom, are you all right?" Candy's voice brought her back to the present. 

"I'm fine honey." She could hardly speak. Running from the room as fast as she could, she barely reached the shelter of her room before the tears came. 

********************* 

Martha sighed deeply before she picked up the phone and asked the long distance operator for her number. "Hello Evelyn!" she greeted her younger sister when she picked up her end in Florida. 

"Yes, it's me Martha. I'm fine, but there is something I want to talk to you about." 

The housekeeper sat down and tried to think of the best way to say what she intended to say. "I'm not coming down for Christmas, Evelyn. I think I should stay here." 

She listened to her sister for several minutes and then continued. "I know we always see one another at Christmas, but I don't think I should leave Mrs. Muir right now. She isn't doing well." Without going into a lot of detail on her employer, she explained to her sister that this was a hard time of year for Carolyn Muir, even though she did try to hide it, and she herself would just feel better if she stayed with the family. "They are here in this strange place, away from all family and friends and I'm going to stay. So if you will explain to Mother for me, I would appreciate it. And kiss Harry for me and tell Lisa I'm sorry I missed her. Love to everyone." 

Martha hung up the phone, let out another sigh and turned back to her dinner. Captain Gregg tugged on his ear and thought carefully about the one-sided conversation he had just heard. Oh how he hated feeling helpless!

***************************** 

Carolyn went down her list, smiling every time she was able to cross an item off. Christmas was a week away and things were getting along just fine. Candy's Etch-a-sketch and Slinky were bought and wrapped. Jonathan's Lincoln Logs and a set of Hot Wheels cars, that Martha was already good-naturedly groaning about finding in the vacuum cleaner bags, were hidden safely in the closet. 

Her parents had sent a generous check – insisting she use it for Christmas, and Carolyn had accepted it gladly, happy to see that it had provided presents for both children and Martha as well as the tree, the fixings for Christmas dinner and a tiny bit left over. 

For both her parents and the Muir's, she had taken the children to a photographer's studio in Bangor and had a several portraits made, sending the best ones in frames to the grandparents. If only she hadn't broken down in the studio and had to run to the bathroom to keep from crying in public. But she wasn't going to think about that. 

Martha's necklace was bought and wrapped, as well as a small bottle of perfume called 'Midnight Pleasures,' that she hadn't been able to resist buying her friend. She was very glad that Martha was going to stay with them for their first Christmas in Gull Cottage, even though she was surprised. For Martha to give up time with her family must be very hard, and she knew she should persuade her to go. But no, she wasn't going to, she wanted the woman to stay. 

And finally Captain Gregg. She slowly crossed his name off her list, giving an extra smile as she did so. She had found the perfect gift for him and had even paid for it with her own money – an advance on an article she had done for _New England Life_. She had noticed sometime ago that his inkwell was badly in need of replacement, and she not only had found a well made of marble, with a flannel bottom to keep it in place but also a fountain pen that she had had his initials engraved into. It almost made her wish that Christmas was sooner so that she might give it to him. She knew that he would like it, and the thought made her almost giddy. 

It was nice buying a gift for a man again, she couldn't help but think, even if he was only a spirit. She had forgotten how much she missed men's departments with their smell of leather and men's suits and a slight mingling of aftershaves. In the last few years she had found it easier to allow her mother to pick gifts for her father for her, claiming she just didn't really have the time. But she knew it was because she didn't want to drudge up memories. She had fallen in love with Bobby Muir that day she had seen him in Bloomingdale's. He had been coming out of a dressing room, trying on a tuxedo to be in, of all things, her wedding. Her wedding to his best friend. It was funny how life turned out – not at all like you thought it would. Thank God for that. 

Hiding her list in the desk drawer, she turned to the French doors – the nighttime calling her. Slipping outside without benefit of a coat, she walked to the wheel, letting her head rest against the wood. Really, it hadn't been so bad this year, had it? She was doing a good job of keeping her emotions intact – wasn't she? Moving had been a good thing. She was sure of it now. They all had a better outlook on things. The children were thriving in the sea air and she was getting a lot accomplished and surprisingly was doing well with her writings. They weren't starving to death or living out on the streets – something she had been warned about too many times. 

"I always told you could write anything you set your mind to." She heard the voice so distinctly, she looked around for the source. "Bobby?" 

The only answer was the sound of the waves and a group of seagulls, whose shrill cry was flung across the night sky. Well, she should try and get some sleep, she reasoned. There was so much to do tomorrow and she hadn't been sleeping well lately. But she never did this time of year. More than likely the hope of any rest would come from sitting in the chair, then getting in bed. She smiled at the memory of Captain Gregg who yesterday had scolded her in his special way about her not taking care of herself when it came to such human needs as rest and relaxation. It had made her heart beat fast and put a smile on her face. And even now she felt warm at the thought that he had cared enough to say something – even if it was said like a parent yelling at a child. _If only. _"Well, 'if only' a lot of things, Carolyn," she said out loud. 

Going back into the bedroom, she closed the French doors firmly behind her, taking one last look out at the moon. Quickly she changed into a white nightgown and her favorite yellow robe and pulled a blanket off of the end of the bed. Settling down in the chair, she covered herself with the bright red coverlet and closed her eyes. Once the holidays were over and things quieted down, she would try to resume a normal sleeping schedule, but for now, this would do. 

She could feel sleep engulfing her, but as soon as she closed her eyes she would jerk awake. Laying her head in the crook of the chair she scrunched her eyes up and willed herself to sleep, but the gods of slumber seemed to be refusing her. "Carolyn!" 

Carolyn jerked her head up, looking all around, wishing for something with all her might. But if truth be told she was tired of wishing. "If wishes were horses," her grandfather was fond of quoting, and it was so true. 

She had been told so many times after her husband had died how well she was taking everything in stride. "I'd be in pieces if Paul were to die," her best friend Susannah had told her more than once. "But you are always composed." Her in-laws had been next to offended when she had sat dry-eyed through the funeral, and everything that went with that awful day. But she had been determined that no one would see her tears, not that day or any other one. 

All of her tears were stored up – released at the end of the day, when she would allow them to come in great floods. Night after night she would wet her pillows, only to end up on the couch or chair, always waiting for the phone to ring. A phone that would never ring, because he wasn't here any longer. 

It had gotten better and after a while, she found she could wake up with a smile on her face and find something new in each day. It had taken a while longer to part with his personal things, but when she did it had been done quickly. It was very selfish of her she knew, but she could not have his picture up in the house, not even now, because she didn't trust herself to be able to see him without crying. 

After the first two years, she was even able to date although she didn't really enjoy it. And then they had moved here to Gull Cottage, and suddenly she felt like a girl again when a certain sea captain told her she was fiery and stubborn. The sight of him could make her weak, cause her heart to pick up speed, put a smile on her face. Oh she was so confused! 

"Carolyn?" She heard Bobby's voice in her mind. "What's the matter honey?" 

"I miss you Bobby Muir," she answered her thoughts out loud. "I wish you were here." 

"I am here." His voice was reassuring in her head. "Remember the day that we first made love?" 

"I'm not likely to forget it." She couldn't help but blush a little. 

"That day we said we were joined together in both mind and body. I'm always with you. But I know what you mean, I miss you too." 

"I never thought of that," she shook her head. "I'm glad to hear it." 

"I'm glad you didn't marry Blair. I knew you had more sense than that." 

"You know that Blair was here? Oh my. I told him years ago we could never be more than friends. But you know, it's funny, he knew I was in love with you before I did." 

"Only smart thing he ever did. And I see he still calls me Richard." 

"Old habits never die." 

"You have a good life here Carolyn. I want you to be happy here. And Captain Gregg, he can make you happy if you'll let him." 

"You know about him too?" She was truly surprised. "But I guess I shouldn't be. But Bobby, he's a ghost." 

"You have to work that out for yourself." He was practical. "Just remember I love you. And it's okay to grieve, but don't hide yourself in the dark anymore." 

And once more tears began to fall. 

******************* 

"So, you will let Santa come and go with no problem?" Jonathan asked the seaman who was perched on the desk in the nursery. It was nice to be able to talk to the lad in his room like this. Hopefully someday the girl would be able to see him as well. There were so many things he would like to share with both of them. 

"Of course I will, Jonathan. I have no reason to want to spoil your Christmas. I love Christmas myself." 

"Really?" Jonathan sat up in bed. "I didn't know they had it a long time ago." 

"When I was a lad, Christmas was quite different then it is now, but I looked forward to it with great anticipation." 

"Little? Like me?" the boy tried to think of his hero, being his age, all thoughts of sleep gone. 

"A lot like you, actually," he nodded. Feeling a presence in the doorway he turned his head in that direction, seeing Carolyn standing there in the robe he liked the best, her hair tousled as though she had been trying to sleep, her eyes red as though she had been crying – again. 

"Can I join you gentlemen?" She gave them both a tired smile, crossing the room to sit on Candy's empty bed. Scruffy hopped up beside her and she began to stroke his fur. 

"Captain Gregg is going to tell me about Christmas when he was little." Jonathan glowed. 

"Oh!" She brightened a little. "Please go on." 

"Well, when I was a boy, Christmas was still not celebrated in many parts of New England. The Puritans who first settled here regarded it as an unnecessary extravagance, and I knew several families that never gave it much thought. But in my house it was a wondrous time. My mother was from Ireland, and she always made the most of the holiday. She would decorate the entire house with holly branches, placing them on the mantle and over doorways and even down the stair railings." 

"Gull Cottage would look pretty that way." Carolyn said, and he nodded. "The first Christmas I lived here, I decorated her as such. It was a lovely sight." 

"Why holly though?" She was getting caught up in his story. "Usually, it's evergreens people use." 

"Well in Ireland, it's widely believed that holly would bring the fairies to your home, who would sleep in the shelter of the leaves and bring blessings upon your house for your hospitality. Me Mam always told me that holly was the true sign of Christmas as it stood for both life and death. Not to mention that holly was quite plentiful in Ireland and even the poorest creature could make their home look like a palace," he said with a wistful look in his eyes. 

For one minute his gaze caught Carolyn's across the room, and they held it steady. Clearing his throat, he continued in a voice that she was sure held a hint of tears. 

"Every year for dinner, my Mum would prepare a meal of a roast goose and potatoes, with a mixture of vegetables and a Christmas pudding. Christmas Eve night, she would have me clean the table carefully, covering it with a red linen table cloth. Then we would lay out a simple meal of bread – a special one made of raisins and caraway seeds." 

"Why did you do that Captain?" Jonathan was more than curious. 

"The bread was set in the middle of the table along with a jug of milk and a lit candle. If a traveler would be going by, they could come in and be refreshed and then continue on their journey." 

"How did they know the food was there?" Mother and son asked together. 

"A candle was put in a window where it could be seen easily from the road. It was a sign to those going by that there was food and warmth inside. According to the old stories, it was thought that perhaps the holy family might stop by, and in preparation for that, the candle was only lit or snuffed by a girl in the family of the name of Mary." He stopped for a moment, shaking his head in laughter. 

"My Pap always teased her about taking her life in her hands and lighting the candle anyway. She said she figured the Virgin would understand, since she was the one who saw it fit not to give her a daughter Mary. I remember going outside and seeing the glow of the candle on the snow and thinking what a warm feeling it gave me. Home sweet home." 

"Could we do that Mom?" Jonathan asked. "We don't have a Mary either, but it would be fun to do something different." 

"I don't see why not." She looked over at the Captain once more. "Yes, I think we should." 

"Why thank-you Madam." His voice was a bit shaky now. "I would like that very much indeed." 

"I'll get the things we need tomorrow, " she told him. "And then I'll tell Martha and Candy we're going to be doing something new this year. And now young man – " she addressed her son, "it's time for you to get some sleep" 

"Okay," the boy sighed. "I guess I better be good, since Santa will be here soon!" he grinned. 

Carolyn tucked him in, giving him a lingering kiss.

"Sleep well, little man." 

Together she and the Captain walked out of the door and she shut it firmly behind her. "Thank-you for sharing the story on your mother," she said when they had reached the main cabin. "That was a very sweet memory. You still miss her don't you?" 

"Very much, she was quite a lady and the best mother a boy ever had. I just wish I had had her with me a little longer. I was only eight when she died and miss her every day. But every year around this time, I miss her most." 

"Even after all this time," she said out loud, but not necessarily to him. 

"You still miss him, don't you?" The blunt question startled her. 

"How did you know?" Her lips began to tremble and she knew tears were close by. 

"How long has he been gone?" 

"Three years, this last June. But for some reason, Christmas is always the hardest for me. I miss him every single day, but when Christmas begins to happen, I just . . . I don't know. I . . . can't help it." The tears were falling now. 

"You loved him every single day, why wouldn't you miss him as much?" 

"But I didn't love him more at Christmas," she insisted. 

"That doesn't mean it's not the hardest time. Christmas is a time for families, a time when they are uppermost on our minds." 

She nodded and wiped her eyes. He wished he could hold her, to let her cry on his shoulder and cuddle her tight, but this wasn't the time. 

"Would it be presumptuous of me to tell you that it hurts me to see you suffer so?" 

"No." She shook her head. "But I am sorry. I've tried not to be obvious." 

"Maybe you would feel better if you were. Maybe it would help to talk about it?" 

"I've never told anyone," she said, sitting down in the chair. "I've tried to be strong." 

"Perhaps it's time that you let someone else be strong along with you. Tell me about him – what was his name?" 

"Robert," she began. "But he liked to be called Bobby. We met unexpectedly and I think it was love at first sight. I was engaged to his best friend at the time but after five minutes with Bobby Muir, I knew I had found the man I loved." 

She talked late into the night, the Captain saying little, nodding or laughing once in a while. She didn't give lots of details, but just talked about things, the small things in life and the joy of sharing them with someone you love. 

"I miss him, but I can still hear his laughter and sometimes his voice. I think of him when I smell wood smoke or drink a cup of cider. I see him in my children and think of how much they are missing without him, but thankful they had him – even for a little while. And if I might be blunt, I miss laying in bed with him at night." 

"Of course you do," he agreed. "It's only natural." 

"Thank-you for tonight Captain." She gave him a smile. "I'm afraid I don't thank you enough for what you do for me. As bad as I've been this year, I know it would have been much worse without your help." 

"My help Madam?" 

"Don't let it go to your head." She had to tease or she might become too sentimental, she thought. "But every day I see how you help me – believe in myself and what I'm trying to do. Even when you do make me mad, and I could just scream and then the next minute . . . well I wish I could hug you." And she smiled shyly. "You won't let me give up, and you are there when I stumble. You help me be a better person." 

"Madam, I . . ." he began, but found for the first time in many years he was at a loss for words. 

They sat there quietly, each wanting to say what was hidden in their hearts, but knowing that now was not the time. But someday, perhaps, it would happen. And they were content with that. 

For the first time in weeks, Carolyn slept through the night, waking up late the next morning to find Captain Gregg at her side. She had had a wonderful life, she thought, and it was okay to grieve for what she had lost, but there was also the future. And suddenly it seemed brighter than it had for a very long time. 

As he had sat watching her chest rise and fall in sleep, her hair, a jumble of gold on the white pillow, he thought about how he loved her. "If only I could tell you," he said quietly. "But perhaps some day I can. I know I will never deserve to have you as I am, but maybe someday I will feel that I can tell you all that is in my heart. But always I will watch over you and keep you in my care. Sleep well, my beloved Carolyn."

********************** 

The monkey-puzzle tree was covered with snow on Christmas morning, Carolyn noticed as she snuffed out the candle. They had agreed that since her middle name was Marie that she should have the honors, because, as Candy said proudly, "it's the same thing as Mary only in French." The last couple of days had been easier, she thought, since she and the Captain had talked, and even though she missed Bobby as much as she ever had, it seemed a little easier to bear. 

Feeling the presence of the spectre behind her, she turned around, his blue eyes just inches from her own green ones. "Merry Christmas my dear Mrs. Muir." And he handed her a small package. She began to open it when suddenly she heard a squeal by the tree and saw Jonathan gazing at the presents underneath it. 

"Hey Mom! Santa Claus made it, just like you said. He wasn't afraid of any old ghost! Well . . . sorry Captain!"

"Oh Jonathan!" Candy began. 

Yes it was a merry Christmas indeed. 


End file.
